


Nurturance, Cultivation and Control

by All_the_damned_vampires



Series: Grave [2]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Abduction, Alternate Universe - Aliens, Bigotry & Prejudice, Botany, Dubious Consent, Even Aliens Have Daddy Issues, Exhibitionism, Genocide, M/M, Master/Pet, Medical Procedures, Mental Instability, Misunderstandings, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Touching, Possessive Behavior, Restraints, Scenting, Speciesism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-08 22:33:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4323318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/All_the_damned_vampires/pseuds/All_the_damned_vampires
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some additional short segments for "So Very Like A Grave," told from Jensen's perspective.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Still playing around with this story, from Jensen's POV. Eh, I dunno.  
> Critique and feedback welcome.

Amongst the black backdrop of space, a wormhole unfurls and deposits an armada of vessels—unobservable in their stealth—above a small planet in third position from its sun.

From their distant perch—the perspective of a god if any such creature existed—the planet is beautiful. Blue and green, traced with white.

Look closer, and the sphere is ringed in sharp, gray trash. Closer still, and the blue of deep oceans gives way to slicks of black crude and clots of dull plastic detritus.

Amid the floating junk, some majestic leviathan surfaces, spouting a puff of white foam. On it’s wide, gentle back, clumps of cancerous lesions from ultraviolet exposure.

This planet is not blue and green and beautiful. It is drenched in black oil and red blood. On it’s surface, vermin scurry. Violent, murderous parasites, hastening themselves towards death with reckless abandon. Hastening the entire planet to its end.

From far above, one lone alien looks down and sighs.

What they do here will be a mercy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jensen finds Jared.

It's dying.

There's a flurry of movement around the exam platform, the medical staff moving quickly, efficiently. With speed, but without undue urgency or panic.They're intimately familiar with human physiology; they'd have to be.

They're the ones who helped design the virus after all.

So. This strange creature he helped bring in, one of the few live specimens procured as yet. It was dying but it probably isn't any more. Jensen knows next to nothing about medicine, but he trusts in his people's skill.

Pushing away from the wall, Jensen steps closer to the table, where the human lies in repose on the heated padded surface, still and naked. Wiry, lanky thing. It had looked a bit insectoid earlier when Jensen had found it, struggling to push up on its long limbs from the floor, coughing up blood. But now, motionless before him, he can see it has a face and body that much resembles Jensen's own.

There's something about it, Jensen thinks, leaning over for a closer look. Something he saw before, something he sensed. He opens his lips slightly and inhales, the delicate receptors in his mouth picking up traces of dopamine, adrenaline, a taste of the human's prior state of mind. The chemical traces of grief and panic have faded and dispersed with the specimen's loss of consciousness. Whatever was there when Jensen and the human locked eyes for that brief moment, is gone as well.

If it was ever there to begin with.

Regardless, for a murderous parasite, it has an undeniable beauty. It's features adher to the aesthetic ideals of Jensen's people, even wasted and sick as it is now. High cheekbones made sharp and stark from hunger. A soft, slack mouth, lips peeling and chapped from dehydration. Pretty. It will be prettier still with proper nutrition. Jensen reaches out to stroke the human's long fingered hand. The nails are sharp and ragged, dirt ground into the skin. Filth makes the whorls on the human's fingertips stand out in stark relief, a swirled pattern as pretty as the veins on a fern.

"Excuse me, Sir." A medical technician brushes Jensen to the side with an impatient gesture and Jensen blinks then shuffles to the side to let the staff work. He can feel eyes on him, catches the sight of several of the medical team watching with their mouths open, lips pursed as they suck in the air and attempt to assess Jensen's emotional state. He's hovering over the specimen, holding it's hand, and who knows what they think.

Jensen hardly knows what to think, either.

He's not the first to bring in a live human, but he's the first to insist on ownership. To claim a human as his personal property, when the others have deposited their troublesome specimens and walked away without a backwards glance.

Strange.

Jensen makes himself step away, heading over to the table where the medical team has placed the human's belongings for further examination and then cataloging. There is the gray fabric the human was swathed in, only lightly spattered with blood. Jensen wrinkles his nose. The clothes are ugly, and he's not sure why the head researcher insisted on removing the items carefully instead of just cutting them off. He's a soldier not a scientist, and even though he probably could understand the rationale behind their decisions, he knows the research team won't bother to explain it to him.

Beside the clothes are a thick, worn belt crafted from some animal's hide and a ring of keys, those primitive tabs of metal humans use to secure their doors. Jensen hefts the keys in his hand. Perhaps thirty or forty pieces all told. Fingering each piece of metal, Jensen frowns. A poorly constructed weapon, not at all like those crude yet efficient pieces that fire sleek, metal projectiles. Guns. Jensen supposes his human must have swung the metal ring around on the belt, or maybe slipped the keys between its fingers to add an edge to its punches. It doesn't speak well for the creature's intelligence that it crafted such a poor weapon.

It's the first of its kind they've found without some type of club or a knife or a gun.

Next, a folded pouch, filled with slips of plastic and paper, some with pictures of his human on them. Jensen squints at a shiny plastic rectangle with the human's face on it and some writing, which repeats on several other items with the human's picture. A name? Jensen isn't a linguist; that team will send in a person to scrutinize these items later. But he knows the language on this sector of Earth is sound based, simplistic, not at all like the lofty, concept-based symbols of his own people. He digs into his memories of the basic language training he received before the invasion began and lets his mouth stumble quietly over each sound.

"J...a...r...e...d..."

There is more, of course, including a cluster of truly daunting sounds at the end of the human's name that Jensen chooses to ignore. If he wants to, he can name this human anything he likes. He's gotten clearance from command for the specimen to be logged as private property, on loan to the research team. Jensen's name and statement of ownership are included in the sub-dermal tattoo that will soon be burned into the human's long, slender neck.

Jared. Jensen thinks he'll keep it.

He would have liked to see his human awake, up and moving around, it's eyes--dully and muddy upon superficial inspection--clear and alert. To stand before it and scent Jared's emotions, to see what it was...that elusive something. Maybe if Jensen pressed his mouth to Jared's, breath to breath, lips and tongue working, he could understand...

Face flushing, Jensen shakes his head, clearing his thoughts. Inappropriate. Even perverse. To imagine sharing breath that way, with vermin?

It would be better to leave, now. To walk away from this strange creature, this strange sensation in his chest. To use what time he has before the next assignment to lose himself in his other interests, his reading. Awaiting him back in his quarters is a fascinating article on lichen...

He won't. He knows he won't. He'll stay through the human's treatment, through the cleanings and the sample collection. If they let him, he'll help secure his human in the habitat created specifically for its needs, and keep watch as long as he is able. His status and family name will grant him that privilege, to play at using his mind to discover, instead of to kill.

Jensen always wanted to be a scientist, and always knew he'd be a soldier.

Jensen sighs. He'd like to stay with the research team permanently and observe his human, but he can't. However his father may indulge his hobbies, duty calls. It will be months before Jensen gets leave, and he cringes a bit at what his father will say about his only child spending his leave in the amateur study of a soon-to-be extinct parasite.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Occurs directly after "So Very Like A Grave" ends. Jensen brings Jared home.

In the end, after the extermination, the world is hollowed out. A shell, just waiting to be filled. Human buildings and landmarks, renewed and retrofitted, add an exotic charm that soon becomes familiar.

Home.

Even most of the place names are kept the same and Jensen can't help but let his tongue softly trip over the alien sounds. _Pacific Ocean, Pacific Ocean_ , Jensen breathes as the transport pod moves slowly through the night sky, skimming the coast. Outside, the stars twinkle bright in the sky, easily observed from the pod’s clear windows. This new city in the northwest hemisphere is fully populated with Jensen’s own kind, but the planners were careful to restrict light pollution from both the new construction and the buildings they retrofitted.

Jensen looks over at his human, sitting beside him. Jared might be looking out the window at the stars, or he might be studying the thinly constructed glass windows of the pod or he might be looking at nothing at all. Turned completely inward. Shut down.

After the night he had, Jared is certainly well within his right.

Over the last few hours, Jared had been lead into a lavish celebration of the invading party’s elite. New royalty. Two years after the invasion of Earth, settlers from Jensen’s world had finally arrived; civilians ready to settle into their new lives on this new planet. There was still a massive cleanup in progress--local flora and fauna still at risk--and pockets of virus-resistant humans here and there, still requiring either elimination or domestication. But all in all, the colonization was a success.

And Jensen’s own success: the first domesticated human. Leading Jared straight from his isolated enclosure into a crowded and festive party might have been risky, but his human had behaved admirably. Jared had stood meekly, only his trembling muscles and darting eyes giving away his tension. Allowing himself to be stroked and admired—Jensen grits his teeth again at the idea of so many hands on his pet—Jared had answered questions after a quick glance at Jensen to gauge approval.

After the party, Jensen had led Jared away. His human had been drenched in sweat, his silky, new clothes dark in patches under his arms and across his belly. The stink of fear. Understandable, considering that Jared had been brought to tremble before a mighty and advanced race. His conquerors.

Fear is a much more acceptable response than aggression.

Not that Jared had ever shown any aggression, Jensen thinks and then pushes the thought away. It doesn't fit and it hurts somehow. Humans are combative and violent. That Jared isn't that way is just a quirk of his genetic makeup. An aberration. It's what has made him so easily domesticated. Jared's existence, the fact that he sits obediently at Jensen's side, is proof that perhaps a few humans are salvageable.

It doesn't matter to Jensen. Whatever future endeavors occur in the field of human research, Jensen won't be there. Not out in the field risking his life against guerrilla tactics by the few surviving humans. Not in the lab playing scientist where everyone around him knows he's a fraud only allowed to participate due to his position and privilege. He has his pet and his pension and a quiet life ahead of him. Perhaps when he is an old, old man, he might lift his eyes to the sky and see the next fleet of ships leaving the atmosphere, preparing for the next colonization.

Jensen reaches out and strokes a hand down Jared's arm. His pet turns slowly, dreamily, and offers a small, pinched smile. Normally quite talkative, Jared hasn't said much since he's left his enclosure.

"We're almost there," Jensen reassures him, unable to gauge much of Jared's mental state over the stench of fear. "My home. Our home." Jared nods his shaggy head once, then turns away, looking out the window once more.

He hasn't been outside in two years, Jensen realizes, then regrets hustling his pet from his enclosure to the stuffy confines of the party and then into the small transport pod. Jared deserves a walk under the stars.

Before long, they are winging through the light cloud cover and approaching Jensen's house near the city center. He's had long months to design it, to advise the contractors and to pick and fret over the details. To talk with Jared--before Jared admitted he knew what Jensen was--and add on rooms based on Jared's musings, even researching some of the more unfamiliar human elements.

_"What kind of house?" Jensen had said, chest bare and dewed with sweat, stretching out in the bed. "What kind of rooms?"_

_Jared had raised his head from Jensen's stomach and smiled, mouth still swollen and flushed from kisses. "_ _Lots of outdoor space. A deck. Or a patio. With a view."_

_"But inside, what would you want?" Jensen had persisted. "Pick something fantastical. Something amazing. Not simple."_

_"Well," his pet had frowned, forehead creasing with thought. "A wine cellar? An indoor swimming pool? A ballroom?"_

_"Is that what you really want?"_

_"Windows," Jared had murmured quietly, kissing his way up to Jensen's mouth. "And lots of light."_

Now as Jensen leads his pet out of the pod and onto the grounds of his property, he can't help but smile proudly. The house sits in the middle of elaborate gardens, native Earth plants picked for their hardiness and beauty. Among the carefully cultivated grasses and shrubs and trees, the pale structure looks magnificent. Jensen looks over at his human and notes with annoyance that Jared isn't even looking at their house. He isn't even studying the curve of the mallow tree or the artfully arranged succulents around the tree's base. His human still has his hazel eyes trained on the sky, as he sucks in great gulps of cool, night air.

Leading his reluctant pet inside, Jensen takes a slow spin around the entry. The house is largely done in the style of his own people, smooth walls and floors, low ceilings and soft, diffuse light. A warren of cozy rooms. View screens displaying his native art cover the walls.

"What do you think?"

Jared looks up and sees, really sees, the interior of the house for the first time. And begins to cry. Water drips from each of his beautiful, slanted eyes, a human behavior that Jensen has long since learned indicates sadness.

He's not sobbing loudly, Jensen notes with both confusion and annoyance as he leads his human on a tour of the house. Just quick, silent tears, dripping steadily down Jared's chin as he's shown each room. All the careful choices, all the planning, diminished by the weeping of one ungrateful human. This is not how the night was supposed to go, Jensen grumbles to himself when he finally tumbles Jared onto their new bed, which sits high off the floor in the traditional style. He owns a wine cellar--full of bottles of liquid his sensitive mouth can't even tolerate! And instead of smiles and sighs and grateful, passionate looks, his pet is crying.

"Be quiet," Jensen orders as he applies his mouth to Jared's neck, as he pulls Jared's clothing away so he can run his tongue along his pet's pale shoulders. "Be quiet."

And Jared is quiet. He sobs silently, shoulders shaking, as he meets Jensen kiss for kiss, mouth working desperately. He gasps in air through a nose made swollen and stuffy from tears as he takes Jensen's cock in his mouth. Later, as Jensen is inside him, thrusting in both hunger and anger, Jared shudders his climax on all fours with his wet face dampening the sheets.

Only later, when Jared is lying in Jensen's arms, does he begin to make that high, whining sound, eyes glazed and lips slack.

Jensen takes Jared's face between his hands and says sternly, "Stop it."

And gasping, shuddering, Jared presses his mouth closed and is silent.

"What is it?" Jensen asks sharply, tone rough with exasperation. "What's wrong?"

His pet wipes away a tear quickly as it escapes. "It's...it's a lot of rooms. How will I find you if you disappear again?"

 

 

*****

 

One week later a transport pod deposits Jensen and his pet at their new home, a beach house farther down the coast, removed from the hustle of the city.

It's not small and simple. Jensen wouldn't stand for that. There is a clean elegance, however, in the modern lines of this large human house, left standing from before the invasion. It sits up on a bluff overlooking the ocean, light brown cedar walls and concrete floors, wide glass windows and stairs leading directly from a huge deck onto the sandy beach.

The open floor plan makes Jensen a bit dizzy. But when he leads Jared through the main living area, his pet strides smoothly, quickly, head up and shoulders back. A far cry from the slinking, furtive movements he made in Jensen's dream house.

Not much room for a garden, a Jensen thinks sourly. And any plants he does bring in will have to be tough in the face of all this sand and salt air.

His pet is staring out at the sea, Jensen notes, as he tugs Jared out onto the deck of the house.

"What do you think?"

Jared smiles so broadly dimples crease his cheeks. Jensen's heart jerks in his chest a bit. He'd forgotten Jared could smile like that. Dimples. So strange, Jensen thinks, that a facial muscle deformity could be so charming.

Then Jared is off and running, down the stairs and onto the beach, feet churning up sand, as he speeds away on his long legs down the shore. Startled, Jensen thinks about using the bracelet, but resists. There's no where for Jared to really go, no way for him to get away. He's got a tracer in the bracelet, an identifying tattoo just below the surface of the skin of his neck.

And the world is no longer his own. He's the alien now, amidst the teeming colonists that are made up of Jensen's people.

Even more so, Jensen believes that Jared will come back on his own.

He does, two hours later. Drenched in sweat and sea water, sand in his hair, black pitch and bits of green seaweed clinging to his bare ankles. And smiling, smiling as Jensen has never seen him do before. That night, Jensen tumbles Jared onto a low mattress, sand making the sheets gritty. Jared tastes like the ocean, salt in his mouth and on his skin and in the pearl of wetness at the tip of his cock. It tastes like tears, like sadness.

But it also tastes a bit like hope.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jensen has a visitor. Decisions need to be made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the last installment unless someone sends me a plot bunny and my mind caroms off like some cartoon dog to chase it.
> 
> Also, again with the under-tagging. If you see something sensitive, let me know.

"Hermit," chides a melodic voice behind him and Jensen sighs and closes his portable device. The house sensors had alerted him to his former commander's arrival long prior, but Jensen had wanted to pretend a little longer that he wasn't going to be disturbed. It is warm on the deck, the breeze mild. Sitting outside in a soft chair, feeling the sun on his shoulders, is the closest Jensen's been to peace in a while.

"Hello, Alaina," Jensen says and stands to turn and give her the proper greeting, her red curls billowing against his cheek in a sweet smelling cloud. "How are you?"

"I'm wondering why you've chosen to live in such a remote locale," she continues. "It took me ages to get here."

Jensen sighs. "It took you no time at all. This is not remote."

"Still," Alaina continues, draping herself into a deck chair. "You spent forever building that lovely house--which I've moved into by the way--"

"Of course--"

"And now you're hiding out here?"

"This house is lovely as well," Jensen replies steadily. "And I'm not hiding. I'm relaxing. There's not much for a military officer to do during peace time."

"True." Alaina shields her eyes from the sun and looks down onto the beach. "Nice view."

Jensen looks down at the water. Jared is struggling to his feet in hip deep surf, his brown hair wet and tangled around his face. He's trying something called "body surfing," which seems to consist of flinging himself into a churning wave and then being dragged into shore. Some strange human pastime.

"Is that him?" She asks lightly but Jensen doesn't bother to answer. She knows who Jared is. Every citizen of the planet does. Jensen's pet is a celebrity. They both watch as Jared turns to trudge back out to sea, nude save for the bracelet on his wrist. Jensen admires the lean tight lines of Jared's back, his ass, now bronzed by the sun.

"Also lovely," Alaina murmurs. "People are saying you're besotted."

"Who's saying that?"

"Simply everyone."

"Meaning just you." Jensen would know if the gossip had gotten that bad. There would be a furiously cold missive from his father, instead of the bland and formal usual messages, inquiring after Jensen's health and suggesting possible political posts Jensen could acquire if he ever got bored of his life of leisure.

"I am everyone," Alaina teases, "but yes. The soldier who fell in love with his alien pet. The poor little savage ensnared and betrayed by his heart. Like something out of a melodramatic play."

"I'm not in love with him," Jensen replies. "I'm not hiding and I'm not a hermit."

"What are you doing then?" Alaina asks, reaching over to unfold Jensen's device and gaze at the screen. "What is that?"

"A white rhino," Jensen answers, gazing at the screen with her. "It's extinct."

He doesn't tell her it died out in the two weeks after the virus was released into the human population. Even hacking and sniffling with the plague, poachers had been able to drag themselves out of bed and into the brush, killing the remaining unguarded animals and slicing off their horns.

"Strange looking creature," Alaina muses. "Still obsessed with Earth biology?"

"Mostly botany. But yes."

"You should have become a botanist. Plenty for them to do right now."

"Father never would have allowed it," Jensen answers. There is no real need for soldiers, not in this time of peace. Jensen could make the expected and approved move from soldier to politician, if that's what he really wanted.

He's not sure what he wants.

"Pity. Anyway, come away on a trip with me. There's a new series of plays being produced, all with an Earth theme. Should be fascinating! There's this human-style theatre in Paris--"

"I can watch it from here," Jensen replies.

"But to see and be seen, that's the point! We'll get a private box, and all eyes will be on you. And your human of course."

"Perhaps," Jensen answers noncommittally.

"But--" Alaina's voice fades away and Jensen turns to look over his shoulder. Jared has come in from the waves, climbing the stairs from the beach to the deck. He stands frozen, watching them, water dripping down his face and beading on his broad shoulders. His long, narrow feet are caked with sand. There's a beach towel on a nearby chair and Jensen watches with amusement as Jared's fingers twitch toward it, but his human doesn't move.

"Can I?" Alaina says breathily and Jensen sighs again and nods.

Everyone wants to touch Jared. Like he's some exotic feral predator, tamed and brought to heel. It's a lie. Jensen doubts Jared would squash a bug. He's never displayed any of his race's violent tendencies and his every docile gesture makes Jensen distinctly uncomfortable.

Not a predator, but instead prey.

Alaina runs her fingertips across Jared's chest, a delicate caress of the toned, brown skin. His human shoots an agonized glance in Jensen's direction and Jensen opens his mouth slightly to taste the faint scent of Jared's emotions. Dismay and embarrassment, but arousal too.

"Enough. Go shower," Jensen says abruptly and Jared flushes, bright slashes of pink across his cheeks and chest. His cock is swollen between his legs. He strides quickly to the outdoor shower on the deck, turns on the water and steps under the spray, as if the translucent sheets of water could hide him.

"Cruel," Alaina murmurs, her large, blue eyes tracking Jared's movements. "But such lovely coloring."

"I'm not cruel," Jensen says. "He likes it."

"Cruel to me. I want him. He's pretty."

"Everyone wants him," Jensen answers. It's true. He's had pleading offers and veiled threats, some from very powerful officials. Jensen being his father's son is probably the only thing keeping Jared in his possession.

"I could order you to share," Alaina teases, and she probably could. but Jensen knows she won't."Possessiveness isn't healthy."

"Go find your own."

"I may have," Alaina murmurs and Jensen raises his brow at that comment. Beyond them, the shower cycles off and it's suddenly quiet.

"Found another one. Little thing. Feisty. Not at all like your human. Nearly bit the chief researcher's finger off when he tried to examine it out of sedation."

Finding humans is nothing new. Jensen knows that. But now what was a small stream has decreased to a trickle, as more of the plague survivors are rounded up and their own fierce tendency to turn on each other does a fine job of finishing the rest. Most of the ones they find are ill, injured, or violently insane. Quickly scheduled for a merciful termination.

This one must be pretty.

"Who found it?"

"Some drone doing coastal clean up. No one important. I could probably have it for my own, if you put your name on the request for me."

"Male or female?"

"Female. Just think, we could have a matched set."

There's a quiet gasp and Jensen turns his eyes to his pet. Jared has come up to grab his towel from the chair, and he's trembling ever so slightly, listening to their conversation.

"You want me to assure that you get a feral and violent parasite to bring home with you? Something guaranteed to go for your throat when your back is turned?"

"Why not? You have one."

Before, it hadn't been this way. Everyone had just wanted to get rid of the humans, standard operating procedure for colonization. Scum teaming on the planet, a need to scrub them out. And to be honest, Jensen knows most people still feel this way. Then Jensen domesticated Jared and suddenly humans were interesting and fascinating and rare. A status item.

Jensen's faced down enough gun wielding humans to know the truth.

"Jared is different," Jensen answers finally, then tuts as Jared finishes blotting water off his skin and begins to drape the towel around his waist. "Leave it and stand just there."

His human stands stiffly before them. This time, Jensen's inhalation brings him the taste of distress only. No pulse of arousal. Jensen presses his lips closed in displeasure.

"It's a mistake," he tells Alaina tightly. She should know better. But she wasn't down on the ground, leading a unit. No, she was safely back at base, the one issuing the orders.

She's never seen a team member shot to death in front of her.

"Just think about it," Alaina insists and Jensen swallows down his ire and nods. He knows she won't leave it alone unless he gives some vaguely affirmative response. Beside him, Jared's fear is pulsing out so strongly that Jensen can't help but sense it.

He sends Jared away, back into the house, banished alone to his quarters. Breathes deep the sea air to clear his palate. He has food and drink brought out for his former commander; he makes light and clever conversation. Jensen hadn't realized how much he'd missed her. Maybe he is more isolated than he realizes. Alaina's hand slips to his thigh several times during their conversation, soft, teasing touches, the offer open but undemanding. No hard feelings if Jensen chooses to demur. He's slept with his former commander many times before, the two of them slipping away from their daily demands to seek the pleasures of a warm and willing body. Alaina's explicit sexual interest in him always had a second benefit as well. His commander's approval and acceptance of him went a long way into thawing his relations with both his peers and subordinates, many of them viewing him as too young and inexperienced for his position. A position most rightly assumed he'd secured through the influence of his father.

He doesn't take her hand and lead her inside the house. He doesn't pull her down on a chaise lounge and bury his face in her soft, white neck. It's enough, just to sit beside someone who likes him, who knows him, and expects nothing but his presence.

The sun is setting, casting a red glow over the surf and sand when Jensen finally escorts Alaina to her transport and raises a hand in farewell. He feels happy, tension easing in his neck and shoulders, intoxication from the drinks making him warm and fuzzy. Perhaps he should take a plum political assignment. He can spend more time among his own people, closer to the city center. It isn't what he likes or even what he's good at, but it's expected. Normal. The way things should be. The trajectory he's always expected for his life.

What his pet will think about the change Jensen doesn't know.

At the thought of Jared, waiting patiently upstairs, Jensen's body thrums with desire. He can never get enough of him. He smiles, imagining licking deep into Jared's mouth, tasting all his secrets.

In their bedroom, Jared is waiting, still bare and brown and delectable, as anxious as he ever is when he's left alone for any length of time. But as Jensen approaches, Jared looks up at his master, hazel eyes wide and wet and whispers, "Please. Please help her."

It's as startling as that first step into the ocean, cold and shocking.

Then Jared is standing, towering over his master, grabbing at Jensen's clothes. "Please."

His pet's hands are desperate, grasping. It's like he wants to reach out and remold Jensen. Make him into something different. Make the whole world into something different than it is.

Jensen says, "Guard." He then watches as Jared goes limp, losing control of his muscles. His human slides toward the floor and Jensen reaches out to help ease him down, cradling Jared's head to avoid injury. Once Jared has been safely eased onto his back, lax and limp on the floor, Jensen steps away. He studies his pet, defenseless and spread out before him. Anger is building in Jensen's gut, slow and steady, growing stronger until it becomes a haze of red rage.

"You stupid animal," Jensen hisses. The impulse to strike out, to punish, is nearly blinding. He wants to kick Jared in the ribs, pummel him with his fists. He wants to hurt someone, anyone, and Jared is right there.

Jensen stalks away, leaving the violence behind but carrying the pain in his chest into the next room. He pants for a moment, feeling wheeling within him. He has drugs in the house. Most of them are for Jared. Substances that help Jared sleep deep and elevate his mood and relieve the anxiety of his fragile mind. Jensen can take something and bring himself back down into measured calm. He can wipe away this feeling. He can float for a while.

He doesn't. He steps outside, down the stairs and onto the gritty sand. He sets off at a jog, the night air cooling his face. He shouldn't leave Jared alone. Not like that. But he does.

It is hours later when Jensen admits defeat and returns to the house. He isn't much calmer. But the violence within him is locked away. Legs and arms splayed open, Jared is still on the floor where Jensen left him. His eyes track his master's progress as Jensen re-enters the room, but he doesn't speak.

"Okay," Jensen says coldly, sitting down on the bed. He steeples his fingers and looks down at his pet. "Let's discuss this. You said, 'help her'. How?"

Jared frowns. His mouth opens, the closes. A look of confusion crosses his face.

"How do I help her, hm? Where's your brilliant plan? What would be the best thing to do in this situation, for this pathetic creature you're so worried about? The kindest help would be death, wouldn't it? One quick dose of gas and she'd go to sleep and never wake up."

"No...no..."

"So you want me to help train her? Make her into a good little pet? I doubt that would work. Every human can't be as gullible as you, Jared. She sounds vicious. Probably try to kill anyone who tried."

"Just...you..could...let...her...go..."

"To do what?" Jensen scoffs. "To go where? Let her free to roam and destroy? To kill some child playing in the park?"

"Wouldn't..."

"It's what you do," Jensen says. "It's in your nature. Don't you remember, one of the first things you said to me? 'Don't hurt me.' You were expecting another human to attack you. Because that's who your people are, Jared."

Jared frowns, eyes flickering. "That's...not...what--"

"Release!" Jensen shouts in frustration. "But don't you move off the floor."

His pet shifts minutely, stiff limps flexing, but otherwise stays still. Jensen bites his lip. Lets the minutes slip by in tense silence. There's something here, something he wants to explain, but it's huge. Undefinable. The root of the problem and he just can't see it clearly.

"Sometimes I think we forget," Jared says softly, lying prone on the floor. "You forget who you are and I forget who I am and it's just us. Together. We forget."

Ramblings. The unhinged ramblings of his poor, broken pet. Only it isn't. Jensen can see now how it's been. Alone in the house, on a deserted beach, they could have been any two people on any number of planets. They could have been anyone, just two souls spending time together, leaving all that death far behind them.

Jared in particular, has thrived here. He's started speaking more, smiling wider, shaking himself out of his strange fugue states faster. Less discussion of guilt, of Jared's personal responsibility for things out of his control.

They've been playing pretend again, Jensen realizes.

"We can't forget," Jensen finally answers. That would be a very dangerous mistake.

"I...I could go back in," Jared offers. "Back to the...cage. To help her."

"No!" Jensen's vision is awash in red. Quickly, he strides away, away from the temptation to heave his pet up and shake him, slap him. Infuriating. Wisely, Jared stays still and silent on the floor. He watches Jensen pace back and forth, but when Jensen sucks in air, he tastes no fear. Only sadness and acceptance.

"What is it that you want?" Jensen asks angrily. "Do you want to recreate the life you had? Should I check and see if she has yellow hair? Shall we mate the two of you and hold a lottery for who get the first born when she whelps her litter?"

A tear trickles down Jared's cheek. "No."

"What makes you think she would even accept you? What makes you think she wouldn't see you as just a traitor? Coward? Spit in your face for cooperating with her alien enemies?"

The words aren't true. Jensen doesn't believe them. He's just parroting what he's heard Jared say before, his unreasonable guilt. The worst moments in the dark places where Jared dwells, before he surfaces back into reality, or drifts away into one of his fantasies. Jared isn't responsible for any of this.

The words have the desired effect. Jared's face crumples and he begins to sob, shoulders shaking, but quiet, still quiet. Muffling the sound of his heart breaking all over again.

Jensen lets him cry. He lets himself calm down. Now is the time to take back control. To face what's coming.

"I will never let you go back," Jensen says quietly, once Jared's sobs have wound down. "I will never put you in with that thing. I will never let her hurt you. You are mine. Where we go and what we do is my decision. Do you understand?"

Nodding from his pet, but does Jared really understand anything? Jensen sighs and helps his human to his feet, then positions them both on the bed, side by side and face to face. This is where it starts, Jensen realizes, where reality disappears, and he reaches out and hooks a finger in Jared's bracelet, the cold metal grounding him. Reminding him. It is dangerous to forget.

"No more talk of this," Jensen whispers and Jared nods again, this time gratefully. "Rest now. Close your eyes."

Jared's lashes flutter shut and Jensen lets his eyes drift over his pet's face. Fine boned and beautiful. He'd like to rut against his pet, roll him over and open him up and slide deep inside him. It's not like he hasn't done it before, riding Jared while his pet whimpers in both pleasure and distress.

Not tonight. There's too much salt in Jensen's mouth.

There are decisions to be made. But not now. Tomorrow will come soon enough, and then Jensen will have to make some hard choices about where he will live and what he will do and about Alaina's request.

"I'll never say the words,"Jared murmurs and Jensen's not sure if he's fully awake or even fully present in the here and now. "I'll never say the words but you have to know. You do know, don't you?"

"Of course," Jensen whispers back. It seems to be the right thing to say; Jared settles down immediately and his breathing becomes slow and even. Jensen wraps an arm around his pet and closes his own eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danni lies dying on a beach. She's pretty sure she's the last person alive on Earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had an idea for a continuation I might play around with. We'll see.

It’s early autumn and Danni lies dying on a beach under the blue sky of a sunny afternoon.

  
The sand is soft and cool under her back and she can hear the cry of sea birds, the splash of the surf. It’s enough to make a girl wax philosophical—well, as philosophical as a high school dropout like Danni gets.

  
It’s the end of humanity—not the world, it’s gone on turning without her—and there’s no one around to judge her, not unless one counts the family of bears she saw playing on the beach about a half mile down.

  
God, Danneel hopes she draws her last breath before one of those bears comes by and eats her face.

  
The solitude was never the problem, Danni decides. Loneliness, isolation. Danni was always a sort of “alone” person by nature. Being one of the last—perhaps the last, she hasn’t seen another person in over a year—was not the nightmare the books and movies made it out to be. The loss of her few hard-won friends was painful, but endurable. Hell was not splitting from that survivalist group in the first year—the one where the self-appointed leader couldn’t stop staring at her breasts.

  
No, misery came in the daily hard scrabble for survival out in the forest. And hell came from seeing just how beautiful the world could be without humans in the mix.

  
Air fresher than any Danneel has ever breathed, making her lungs ache. The forest alive with all manner of birds and beasts reclaiming their birthrights in a cleaner, wilder wilderness.

  
For years now Danni has wandered without aim or goal, relying on old Girl Scout camping skills, learning the rest through painful trial and error. Scavenging in the nearby small coastal towns, in small cabins and abandoned ranger outposts.

  
And it all ends now, she thinks, on this beautiful beach. Dead sooner than later. And of course, humanity is to blame.

  
Tripping on a half-buried old tire, slicing her leg on the rusty rim, and tumbling over a bluff to land face up on the sand. Her leg dripping sluggish blood, her back on fire at the smallest movement.

  
Death by litter. It has a sort of cosmic balance, Danni thinks.

  
And now to wait. Danni’s not sure what will get her first. Death by shock, exposure? She’s not bleeding fast enough to bleed out on the sand. And even if she could stand, could hobble to Lighthouse Point, the closest small town ten miles away, there’s no hope of finding antibiotics or a tetanus booster.

  
Not since they moved in.

  
It had been the shock when Danni had stumbled into the town on a supply run several months ago and found Lighthouse Point teeming with people. Well, not people, exactly. Danni’s no dummy. Not unless there was a secret plague-free bunker in Hollywood, and all the beautiful people suddenly emerged and converged on a small fishing town in the Pacific Northwest.

  
Pod people. Aliens. All regal and gorgeous in flowing gowns. Clean-faced and well fed and speaking in lyrical tones. Danni had ducked back into the tree line before any of them could see her gaunt, grimy face.

  
That had been the end of scavenging. Everything ten times harder, and hunger grinding her belly button against her spine.

  
She hadn’t seen the soldiers from before—faceless and menacing behind their gray helmets, the ones she’d horribly seen vaporize an old woman back in Portland—but she wasn’t taking any chances. People—humans—had been reliably awful. Danni didn’t see why being from another planet would make you any kind of goddamn saint.

  
It’s probably the dizziness from starvation that caused her to lose her footing and flip head over ass down that hill, Danni thinks. Fucking aliens.

  
Fucking everyone. Danni hopes Earth’s new conquerors will have a bit more common sense at least. And leave that family of bears alone.

  
An hour later Danni’s not dead yet and the blue sky is getting a little monotonous.

  
If Danni lifts her head a bit, she can see a flock of brown pelicans winging across the water. It’s beautiful, these bird flying together, healthy and free. Danni’s not one for religion, but reincarnation as a bird might be nice.

  
Her neck hurts. Fine, more blue sky it is.

  
Danni’s eyes flutter back open and the sky is a pretty shade of amethyst purple. Lost time, dizziness. Death right on schedule, perhaps, Danneel doesn’t know, she’s never died. Her body has numbed but she’s horribly thirsty. Her canteen is back up the hill.

  
It’s a long, thirsty, cold black night.

  
When the company of the stars fade, Danni tries again to move. Hot lightning shoots up her spine. Her mouth is a desert, gritty and miserable. The tips of her fingers tingle with cold.

  
Fuck. Dying is awful.

  
It’s hard not to be afraid. The hours stretch out long and tedious, pain and agony interspersed with waiting. Boredom. At least Danni has the rush of the sea, the sound of the birds. Later in the afternoon something furry brushes against Danni’s arm and she jerks from her stupor and strikes out, yelling first in fear and then again in pain.

  
Oh please, Danni thinks, please don’t let some critter eat my face.

  
The sun is setting again and Danni is drifting in and out of consciousness when a shadow blocks out the crimson and gold light. Danni’s eyes flutter open. There’s a man hovering above her, flawless skin and turquoise eyes. A male model dressed, strangely enough, like a sanitation worker.

  
Note to self, Danni thinks, it’s not a white light at the end of a tunnel but instead, a flashback to every porno you ever watched.

  
He is gorgeous though. Hi stranger, Danni thinks dreamily, hi.

  
When the stranger reaches down to touch her face Danneel blacks out.


End file.
